Lying in bed today:

I thought what the great saints thought,

what the founders of every faith thought,

what all of the good and true men and women of the world think,

I thought of the sick and the poor, I felt a taste of their

loneliness and and struggle,

a brush against my cheek,

a cloud in my sky.

They were in bed with me,

I heard their sighs.

The world becomes very timid,

when we think of the sick and poor,

we blame the poor for being poor,

we profit from  the sick for their suffering,

the prophets hide their eyes in shame,

if we judge our own humanity by the way,

we treat our animals,

how do we judge ourselves,

by the way we treat the sick and the poor?

Should not all suffering and sadness and pain,

be like this:

The sky pulls a mirror its swirling pocket,

And practices love and mercy,

for us to see,

and cautions us,

not to look away too far,

not to be blinded,

by the sun,

the great saints are waving

their arms,

in joy,

and supplication.

Can we see ourselves in the mirror?